Here is the timid West, cloning is a source of continuous ethical angst. Mention the word at a party, and watch everyone dissolve into bouts of anxious hang-wringing, sweating and spectacular vacillation.
And then there's South Korea. That country is like the Wild West of genetics. No task is too complex or morally ambiguous for these yeoman of cloning science. Just take this headline: SOUTH KOREAN EXPERTS CLAIM TO HAVE CLONED GLOWING DOGS. Cloning a dog? Great. Cloning four? Even better. Screwing with their genetic code so they glow in the dark? Hells yeah!

While we're busy furrowing our brows, South Korea is having the kind of wicked genetic fun that can only be had when you throw all scientific caution to the wind and get down to some serious god-playing. Here's what happens when you ask an American about cloning:

You: "Are you cloning something right now?"

Stern-faced Scientist: "While the technology for such an activity certainly exists, it is important to carefully consider the various legal, moral, religious and political implications before proceeding down such a path."

Compare this to a conversation with a South Korean scientist:

You: "Are you cloning something right now?"

Scientist wearing a party hat with a Tom Collins in his left hand: "Damn right! We're working on a way to clone a horse. Except instead of a regular horse head, we're trying to give it Ted Nugent's entire upper body.

Other Scientist wearing a pink bodysuit, playing keyboards: It can run the Kentucky Derby AND totally shred the solo in "Wang Dang Sweet Poontang". Wicked accurate with a bow and arrow, too."

A third scientist, nude: We're also close to creating a donkey with a hollowbody Gibson head, so the Ted Nugenorse can play on extended trail rides. We call it a Guitonkey.